


This Is A Work Event

by RubyCaspar



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fake Out Make Out, Like so much, Post Series 2, so much setup, this is whopooh's fault, tropey tropeness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyCaspar/pseuds/RubyCaspar
Summary: Jack and Phryne track a suspect into a club, and need to get... creative.





	This Is A Work Event

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/gifts).
  * Inspired by [When did you know she was the one?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067195) by [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh). 



> This fic was a challenge laid down to me by whopooh in the comments of her wonderful fic 'When did you know she was the one?' - it was meant to be a very short fake out make out fic, but ended up over 4000 words long with like 85% of that being setup. Title is from the Brooklyn Nine Nine episode 'Jonny and Dora' AKA the literal fanfic episode of B99. 
> 
> Set between seasons 2 and 3.

“He’s heading into the club - look.”

 

Jack peered round the corner and bit back a curse. “Right. Well at least we know where he is - I’ll call for back up and we’ll set up a watch-”

 

“Nonsense! We need to go in after him.”

 

Jack had expected her to suggest it, and was already rolling his eyes as he turned back to her. She wasn’t looking at him - instead she was fussing with her skirts. 

 

“No Miss Fisher,” he said patiently. “We know where he is, and we’ve seen enough tonight bring him in for questioning. We can wait for backup.”

 

Phryne straightened up and Jack saw she had retrieved her dagger from her garter. She gave him a deeply unimpressed look. “Well you can do that, but I’m going in. I want to see who he’s meeting. Hold this.”

 

She handed him the dagger and reached up to removed her cloche.

 

Jack hesitated - she wasn’t entirely wrong, it would be good to see firsthand who he was speaking to in the club, but they weren’t prepared for such a stakeout. 

 

“Neither of us is dressed for such an operation, Miss Fisher - we’d stick out like sore thumbs in there.”

 

“You’re absolutely right,” said Phryne, her voice slightly muffled as she had her hat pin between her teet. She took back her dagger and starting to hack at her cloche. 

 

Jack stared. “What are you-”

 

“It’s not ideal,” said Phryne, as she continued her work. “And it is a shame to ruin such a beautiful piece of millinery, but needs must.” 

 

Jack saw that she was actually removing the decorative, sequinned spray of flowers on the side of the hat, and once she was done she thrust both the ruined hat and her dagger back into Jack’s hands. She plucked her hat pin from her mouth and within seconds had secured the flowers to the side of her head. She undid her fur-lined black coat and started pulling at various laces and buttons of the red dress she was wearing. It was a day dress, but within moments it had a lower, far more daring neckline and another quick flick of her dagger produced a slit down one leg. Jack gaped as she stored the dagger back on her garter and straightened, looking absurdly pleased with herself. 

 

“What do you think?” She asked with a smirk. 

 

Jack blinked. “Miss Fisher…”

 

“Your turn,” she said, stepping around him. 

 

“You’re not cutting up my hat,” was all Jack could think to say as she tugged his overcoat off his shoulders. Phryne chuckled, and Jack gave in. 

 

At a certain point it just made life easier. 

 

He immediately rethought that conclusion as he realised she was removing his suit jacket as well as his coat. 

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“You can’t wear a waistcoat in a club, Jack,” she said, reappearing in front of him. She unceremoniously dumped his clothing on top of a pair of bins next to them and began to unbutton his waistcoat. Jack’s stomach muscles tensed at the feeling of her fingertips flittering over them even with the layers of cloth in between them, and took a step back. 

 

“I can manage that myself thank you,” he said, making short work of the buttons before she could try to take over again. 

 

She just took a step closer again and went for his tie instead as he pulled the waistcoat off. 

 

“I am keeping the tie!” He protested, covering the knot with a hand. 

 

Phryne rolled her eyes. “Of course you are, but the knot is all wrong and it has to be much longer without the waistcoat -”

 

Jack huffed but he could see her point. “Alright alright, I’ll sort it out,” he said. “You stay over there.”

 

“I’m only trying to help…” Phryne said, her pleased smirk belying her petulant words. 

 

Jack shrugged off his waistcoat and threw it at her face. Phryne caught it and grinned. 

 

“I’m rather enjoying this part of the evening,” she said, her eyes twinkling. 

 

Jack narrowed his eyes at her and, still glaring, began to loosen his tie. Phryne’s smirk returned. 

 

Unable to keep the glare up, and equally unable to stand the look of undisguised interest in her eyes, Jack looked down, turning his attention to his tie. He undid the knot and pulled the tie round to lengthen it before tying a knot again. It wasn’t his usual style and he felt a little ridiculous, but he knew Phryne was right - the slimmer knot and longer length would fit in far more than his classic Windsor knot. 

 

Once it was done, Jack looked up to find Phryne waiting with his suit jacket in her hands. Jack turned around and let her help him on with it, and when he turned back she straightened his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his jacket. 

 

This was a position that Jack was very familiar with, though it was somehow magnified tonight by their impromptu redressing. He held still and waited for her to step back. That mischievous glint was still in Phryne’s eye, and he had a feeling that she was going to use their situation to her advantage for however long they had to spend in that club. 

 

Which was in some ways to his advantage as well. Though not in a way he liked to let himself think about. 

 

Jack looked around and frowned. “What did you do with my coat?”

 

Phryne finally stepped back. “I’ve put it that bin, along with my hat and your waistcoat,” she said. 

 

“ _ What? _ ”

 

“They’ll be perfectly safe - we’ll retrieve them afterwards, and I’ll pay to have your things cleaned,” she said casually. “Don’t worry, I checked the pockets first.”

 

Jack glared at her. “Well what about your coat?” He demanded. 

 

Phryne looked offended. “This is  _ mink _ ,” she said indignantly. “Besides,  _ my _ coat doesn’t mark me out as a policeman from a hundred yards away.” 

 

Jack didn’t have an answer to that, which annoyed him even more than the fact his overcoat was in a bin. He settled for glaring silently, which Phryne clearly took as the victory it was. 

 

“Right, shall we?” She said cheerfully, latching onto Jack’s arm and steering him out of the alley and onto the main road. 

 

“Knowing our luck he’s already gone,” Jack grumbled as they crossed the road to the club. 

 

“In which case we’ll have a drink and dance our woes away,” said Phryne airily. 

 

“I’m not dancing,” said Jack flatly. 

 

“Nonsense, of course you are,” said Phryne. “What kind of man takes his fiancé to a club and doesn’t dance with her?” 

 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Fiancé?” 

 

“Yes I came up with our personas while you were fussing with your tie,” Phryne said, squeezing his arm. She held out her left hand in front of them to show him she’d moved one of her rings to her third finger. “What do you think?”

 

“I think I have excellent taste in jewellery.” 

 

Phryne laughed, and Jack couldn’t help a smile at the sound. They reached the entrance to the club, and the doorman let them in at the merest flutter of an eyelash from Phryne. They checked in her coat and his hat, and then the two of them went through the inner doors to the main room. The club was loud, hot, and packed to the rafters. In other words - Jack’s idea of hell. 

 

From the way Phryne’s eyes lit up he could tell she felt the opposite. 

 

“Have you been here before?” He asked her, raising his voice to try to compete with the band. 

 

Phryne smiled and then took hold of his lapels again, rising up on her tiptoes so that her lips were next to his ear. 

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get a lot closer if you want to say something,” she said in a low voice. Her lips brushed against the shell of his ear as she spoke, and every muscle in Jack’s body tensed as he tried to suppress a shudder. He wasn’t wholly successful, and Phryne was looking rather smug as she pulled away. 

 

Jack knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he could feel his competitive edge rising to the challenge, and so he stepped close and wrapped his arm around the small of her back, pulling her against him. Phryne’s eyes widened, but she didn’t try to resist - in fact she pressed herself closer than his arm held her and grasped his arms with her hands. Jack leant down and put his own lips close to her ear, and pitched his voice purposefully low. 

 

“Is this close enough?”

 

He felt Phryne shiver against him, and didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he pulled back. Phryne stayed close to him, and looked up at him from under her lashes, her own smirk playing around her painted lips. 

 

“For starters,” she replied in a sultry tone. 

 

Jack’s eyes flicked down to her lips again. This really was a dangerous game. 

 

Suddenly, Phryne’s hands tightened on his arms. She rose up to speak in his ear again, but this time there was nothing seductive about it. “Jack, I see him,” she said. “Over there in the corner.” 

 

Jack’s arm was still around Phryne’s waist - he turned them on the spot so that they swapped places. “Got him,” he said after a moment. The man they were tailing was in the corner of the room as Phryne had said, talking to two men in dark suits, both of whom were turned away from them. 

 

“I can’t see who he’s talking to,” said Jack. 

 

This time Phryne turned them so she could see, and then she huffed. “We’re too far away.” 

 

Jack pursed his lips ruefully. He should have known this would happen. “Right,” he said. “Hold on then.”

 

He took hold of Phryne’s right hand in his left, adjusted his arm on her back so his hand was flat against her, and spun them into the crowd on the dance floor. 

 

Phryne laughed delightedly, and Jack couldn’t help a smile at the sound. It was rare that he was able to surprise the indomitable Miss Fisher, and it always gave him a small thrill. Now she pressed up against him, one hand in his and the other holding his shoulder and she was actually allowing him to lead, and he had to admit the thrill was larger than usual. 

 

Jack hadn’t danced in a while, but thanks to his mother’s insistence her children took lessons, a natural athleticism and - no small consideration - a determination to keep that delighted look on Phryne’s face, Jack found that he was able to find the steps easily enough. There wasn’t actually enough space to dance properly anyway - instead he concentrated on weaving them through the other couples on the dance floor, turning them into gaps as they opened up and spinning Phryne under his arm when he had a chance. 

 

A gap opened up and he spun Phryne out again - then instead of reeling her back in he went under her arm himself and ended up back in front of her. 

 

Phryne was grinning as he took her back into hold. “My my Jack,” she said. “You do know how to move.” 

 

Jack grinned back. “Surprised?”

 

Her grin turned playful. “Oh no,” she said. “I could never be engaged to a man with two left feet.”

 

Jack shook his head, smiling again. Some part of him felt that he shouldn’t be enjoying himself so much - he was working after all, he had to be professional. But as always when he was with Phryne, he found her verve completely infectious. 

 

They were on the other side of the dancefloor now, not in the same corner as the suspect but with a much clearer view. Luckily, the music had slowed down some and he was able to keep a surreptitious eye on the suspect as he started revolving with Phryne on the spot. He was deep in conversation with another man, and after a minute or so the two of them turned towards the dancefloor and Jack got a good look at him. 

 

Jack’s hands tightened on Phryne for a moment - not that she seemed to mind, since she took the opportunity to press closer to him. He cleared his throat and bent his head to speak in her ear again. “That’s Tony Harper,” he told her. “Suspected narcotics trader.”

 

Phryne pushed him lightly to turn again so she could have a look too, and then pushed him harder to move him back in time to see Harper and their suspect slip out of a door in the corner.  

 

“We have to follow them,” said Phryne, pulling away from him.  

 

Jack kept hold of Phryne’s hand and pulled her back to him when she tried to step away. She gave him an unimpressed look, and he sighed in defeat. “Alright but -  _ carefully _ .” 

 

Phryne gave him a bright smile. “Of course!” She tugged on their joint hands and headed for the door. 

 

Jack had expected a hallway, but instead the door opened to a small anteroom containing several large boxes, and another door. He and Phryne exchanged a silent look before dropping their hands and moving to the other door. It was slightly ajar, and Jack could feel the cool night air so knew that it led outside. Jack opened the door as silently as possible, and Phryne brushed past him into the alleyway outside. She really could move very quietly when she wanted to. Jack lost no time following her through the door, and carefully pulled the door to behind him. 

 

The alleyway was dark and narrow. The door was sat in between two large dumpsters, giving the two of them shelter on both sides. Phryne was a couple of feet to Jack’s left, crouching slightly so that she was hidden by the dumpster, clearly listening to something. She motioned to Jack to join her, and he hurried over, knees bent to use the dumpster for cover. They exchanged a silent look, and then slowly straightened to peer over the top of the dumpster. 

 

The suspect - make that  _ suspects _ , now - were a few metres down the alley on the other side of the dumpster, talking in hushed tones. Jack narrowed his eyes, holding his breath as he tried to catch what they were saying. 

 

“-want my cargo now.”

 

“You’re gonna get it, you just need to be patient.” 

 

“Yeah? How patient?” 

 

“‘Alf a day patient. It’s coming in in the morning. The  _ Juniper _ gets in on the morning tide.” 

 

“Well I’m gonna be there waiting for it, you understand what I’m saying?” 

 

Phryne turned to look at Jack with a triumphant gleam in her eye, and Jack quirked an eyebrow in response. He had to admit that the decision to follow the suspect into the club had paid off dividends - not only had they tied him to the smuggling racket, but Jack might actually finally be able to link Harper to it as well. 

 

All in all, a pretty successful evening. 

 

Jack was about to motion to Phryne to follow him back inside when he heard a voice behind them, from the anteroom they’d come out of. The volume of the music from inside of the club ticked up slightly as the muffled voice called out: “alright, alright, let me just put this outside!”

 

Jack stared at Phryne, his wide-eyed expression mirrored back at him. The suspects were still talking, so clearly hadn’t heard anything yet, but they had a matter of seconds before the door to the alley opened and the owner of that voice stepped out, at which point they would see him and Phryne, revealing to the suspects that there plans had been overheard, giving them a chance to escape and change said plans, and possibly get a good look at the two of them in the process. 

 

Jack looked wildly at the other dumpster - they needed to get behind it, but it was a few metres away and he could hear steps in the anteroom already. “Damnit,” he hissed under his breath.

 

Phryne grabbed hold of the lapels of his jacket and tugged him towards her. He stumbled forward, surprised at the sudden moment, and she used his poor balance to turn him round and press him up against the wall next to the dumpster. 

 

Before Jack even had a chance to process his new position, Phryne pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Jack’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise - Phryne pressed her lips hard against his bottom lip, fisting her hands in his jacket and pressing her body against his. The heat of her mouth and the taste of her lipstick sent his mind back in time, despite the seriousness of the situation, and his eyes fluttered shut, remembering their only other, stolen, kiss, at the Cafe Replique. 

 

And with that, he suddenly realised what she was doing, and his eyes flew open again. It was… well, it might work. This was just the kind of alleyway where a couple from the club might find themselves if they were looking for a little… privacy. It was ingenious really, and quick thinking, and he should probably be doing more than leaning back against the wall overthinking it. 

 

Phryne clearly agreed, because she pulled back a few centimetres in order to whisper “is that the best you can do inspector?” against his lips. 

 

In some distant part of his mind Jack knew that he had other things to worry about beyond the constant game of one-upmanship that he and Phryne always seemed to be in the middle of, but there was no way he was going to let her get away with  _ that _ . 

 

He could hear shuffling behind the door next to them - quick as a flash, he took hold of her hips, pushed off from the wall and spun them around so it was Phryne with her back to the bricks. He had a moment to note that Phryne was looking far more smug than surprised at the action, before he bent his head and went to work wiping that smirk off her face. 

 

There was nothing tentative about this kiss, and Phryne met him in it from the very beginning - in fact, some dim voice inside him noted, this was their first kiss in which both participants were expecting it from the start. Phryne’s mouth opened under his and her tongue ran along his bottom lip, causing Jack’s hands to tighten on her hips as he worked to stifle a groan. He angled his head further, sucking lightly on Phryne’s top lip before opening his mouth further to meet her tongue with his. There was no duelling, no fight for dominance between them; it was just like when they were dancing, they seemed to know instinctively how to move together. 

 

Phryne’s hands moved from his lapels down underneath his jacket, to clutch at the back of his shirt instead. Jack’s hands were itching with the need to move over Phryne’s body, to touch her skin, cup her face, tangle in her hair, but he kept them on her hips, the one piece of decorum he could afford himself as he lost himself deeper and deeper in the kiss. 

 

Phryne made a soft sound against him as his tongue swept over hers, and Jack’s hand started to move up to her waist of its own volition, his own groan swallowed by Phryne’s mouth like the supplication it was. 

 

“Oi lovebirds! Clear off out of it, nobody’s meant to be back ‘ere!” 

 

Jack sprang back from Phryne at the first sound of the voice, suddenly very loud, coming from a short and stocky man in an apron, holding a box in his arms and glaring disapprovingly at them from the now-open door. Phryne’s hands on his back slid round so they were just grazing the front of his shirt, and his own dropped from her his side. Her makeshift hairpiece was hanging on by a few threads, and her dress was slightly twisted. What little lipstick she still wore was smudged, and her eyes were glassy as she stared at him - since he felt like he’d been sucker-punched, he could only guess he looked the same. She blinked and her eyes were suddenly clear; Jack attempted the same.

 

Jack could hear retreating footsteps from the other side of the dumpster. 

 

Phryne giggled - a sound he had never thought he’d hear from her - and tugged on the end of his tie. “Come on love,” she said in a horribly high-pitched simpering voice, “let’s dance some more.” 

 

She pulled him towards the door by his tie - the man in the apron scowled at them, but stepped aside to let them back in. “Take it home if you want to act like that,” he said as they passed him. “Same thing every night,” Jack heard him mutter as the door closed behind them. 

 

Jack was a little worried that Phryne had been serious about the dancing when she traded his tie for his hand as they stepped back into the club, but she simply weaved her way round the edge of the dancefloor to the exit, pulling him along with her. Jack was happy to follow her lead, and soon they were back in the small foyer next to the cloakroom. 

 

Jack handed their tickets to the attendant, and then turned to Phryne as the woman went into the backroom to retrieve their belongings. She was just finishing straightening her hairpiece, and Jack didn’t know when she’d managed to wipe away the rest of her lipstick, but she had. 

 

Jack reached into his inner pocket for his handkerchief, and wiped his lips - as he expected, it came away covered in red. 

 

Phryne smirked at him, and he rolled his eyes at her. 

 

“I suppose you need to get to the station,” she said musingly. 

 

Jack nodded. “I have a raid to organise,” he said. 

 

The attendant returned with Jack’s hat and Phryne’s coat - he helped her on with it, tipped the attendant, and then followed Phryne out of the front door of the club. Once again she latched onto his arm and they made their way back to the alley where they had stashed the rest of their belongings. They stopped next to the bins, out of sight of the doorman, and turned to face each other. 

 

“Well,” said Phryne after a long moment. “That was a rather enjoyable evening.”  

 

Jack felt a smile tugging at his lips. “It was certainly… fruitful,” he agreed. 

 

“Hmm.” Phryne leaned back against the wall next to the bins, an obvious reference to her position during their kiss that had Jack’s heart pounding in seconds. His hands twitched, and he felt himself sway involuntarily towards her a little. 

 

Phryne smirked. “Perhaps we could try it again sometime without the criminal element?” She said. Jack’s eyes widened, and her smirk grew. “The dancing, I mean.” 

 

Jack swallowed, and he tried to regain control of the situation. He had a feeling it was a lost cause. “It would take the criminal element to get me into one of those clubs as a paying customer,” he said lightly. Or as lightly as he could. 

 

Phryne pouted - actually pouted - and Jack was so busy staring at her lips that he almost didn’t notice her take a step towards him, effectively closing the distance between their bodies. “Well, if you’re so hell bent on depriving the world of your dancing skills,” she said, reaching out to toy with the lapels of his jacket, “how about dinner at mine on Thursday?”

 

Jack knew what she was really saying, what she was really offering. He knew that if he went to her house for dinner she wasn’t going to act as though tonight had never happened. He knew that if he went to her house for dinner only two days after her kissing her like that his resistance would be non-existent. 

 

This wasn’t dinner. This was an acknowledgement of what was developing between them, and what was clearly ready to combust. 

 

He stared at her for several long moments as all of this turned over in his mind, for so long that he noticed Phryne’s smile start to fade and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. And it pushed him over the edge. 

 

“That sounds delightful, Miss Fisher,” he said. 

 

Phryne grinned. “I’m sure it will be.” 

 


End file.
